


Law of Nature

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-06
Updated: 2004-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-01 11:03:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/355944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was inevitable</p>
            </blockquote>





	Law of Nature

## Law of Nature

by Lemonbella

<http://www.geocities.com/indian_skimmer/>

* * *

Law of Nature by Lemonbella 

This is my first fic, so feedback is very much appreciated, even it's to tell me to stop doing it. Big thanks to my betas Kitkat and Indian Skimmer for not letting me hide it under the bed. 

* * *

He thought about the previous day, or two days. How long had it been? The hordes had been at the gate since the sun came up, he could remember vaguely wondering why they'd bothered to wait until dawn. But how long had he been sat here before that? 

He tried to focus on the hours, calculating how long it had been since he'd arrived back, if the shops in the town had been closed as he'd driven past. That would make it five the previous day. How fast had he driven from Metropolis? It was usually a five hour drive. And between the phone call and deciding to come here, how long had that been? Why had he driven from Metropolis? He should've stayed there. He should go back there. No, he was here. How long had he been here? 

This was strange, he always knew what time it was, even in his sleep. He relaxed his head against the wall and drained the last of his glass. 

He'd unplugged the phone. He could see the cord on the floor near his knee. When had he done that? And the phone itself was over by the couch, handset smashed, as if thrown at the wall. He wondered who had done that. It couldn't have been the staff, he remembered sending them all away when he'd arrived from Metropolis. It had still been light when he'd done that, so he must've arrived before last night. Which made it sometime today. Mystery solved. Lex relaxed at this knowledge and took another look around the room. 

His desk was over-turned, the baize on the pool table ripped and at least one pool cue broken in two. The far window was broken, smashed around a central hole. Maybe that was a pool ball. All the art was off the wall, the collection he had talked about in great detail to Dr Foster during those useless therapy sessions. There were books scattered, no, thrown everywhere. The shelves up the top almost completely empty. What looked like his father's copy of Leviathan, pages ripped out, sat in the midst of the glass coffee table, now shattered into pieces across the floor. Lex reached for a piece, idly caressing the edges with his finger. 

*"If it be a law that obliges all the subjects without exception, it is a law of nature." * It seemed appropriate that this was the quote he could recall, although Lex wasn't sure why. His father always said Luthors were a law of nature. Should be undefeatable, inexorable, inevitable in their pursuit of greatness. Of course this always preceded a lecture on why Lex wasn't all these things, and about how somehow the world was about to fall apart because of it. 

Lex sighed. 

The room looked a little like it had when the tornado hit. At the time, it had struck Lex as somehow appropriate that his father had been laid low by another law of nature. One that would have been easily avoidable if they'd never come to Kansas. His father had died then too. Died a thousand times over in Lex's mind as he'd stared at the body under that pillar. 

Yes, that was why he was here. Why he was sat on the floor, huddled into the corner, running a shard of glass over his palm, in a room that look like a madman had run riot. And it was possible it was him that had done all this... 

He poured himself what was left in the decanter, unsurprisingly the only thing unbroken by the madman in his rage, and stared at the shadows on the wall. He was numb. Which suggested there were feelings to be numbed from. His father was dead. 

He hated his father, everyone knew that. The press outside the gates were trying to get a glimpse of the celebration party. Lex wondered idly if there were streamers anywhere he could dangle out of the window, just to make them go away. Maybe they would be happy to wait until the funeral if he promised them video footage of him dancing on the grave. 

Of course Lionel wouldn't tell him. The ultimate defeat and Lex wasn't surprised, yet somehow he was. It just seemed so unlike his father. He'd had time to plan. Years to plan, but there was no sign of a grand exit, no final tests of Lex's competence and ruthlessness. Nor, as Lex had been expecting everyday since Lionel's unfortunately short imprisonment, an announcement of his disinheritance and the revelation of a new heir. Or at the very least a bullet to the brain. But it had just been an unexpected phone call while Lex had been sitting at his desk in Luthorcorp towers. He felt cheated. Cheated of a showdown, of the final moves on the chessboard and an unexpected checkmate. That had been the point, that he had never really known who it would be to move the final piece. And yet here he was, his opponent up and left without him realising it. There were still pieces on the board. 

_Later_

It was dark again, that made it two days since the phone call didn't it? He heard his name shouted from somewhere in the mansion. He sat upright, resting his pounding head against the wall, aware that his hand hurt, reflexively squeezing and stretching it, repressing a yelp of pain. Maybe if he kept quiet whoever it was would go away. How had they got into the mansion anyway? The doors had been locked and bolted when the last of the staff had left. 

"Lex." 

His name, and whoever it was was in the room, and Lex wondered how long it would take to get rid of them, and oh, it was Clark. Clark who was kneeling by his side now, in a rush, touching his shoulder, lifting his chin with his hand and thoroughly scanning him with his eyes. 

"God, Lex...you're. Your hand.. you've..." Clark looked worried, unsure, the same way he looked when Lex asked awkward questions, like he was afraid of what Lex could do. But then the features softened and Lex supposed he should be saying something but it didn't feel like there was a point. 

Hours seemed to pass as Clark moved around him, leaving the room and returning with things. Clark was busy, alternating between cleaning up his left hand, passing him water to drink, and asking questions. Lex did as he was asked, struggling to understand why Clark was here, doing what he was doing. Not sure why the water was important. 

Clark was saying things and Lex tried to concentrate, although it seemed like he was talking to himself more than anything. It almost didn't seem to matter if Lex was here or not, the important thing was that Clark was, and Lex wondered if it would be noticed if he slipped away and found another room without all the activity. Although that would mean leaving Clark, and he liked Clark. Clark seemed to know what was going on, could probably tell him what time it was if he asked, and every time Lex reached for a slice of the glass, wanting to feel the coolness on his skin, Clark took his hand and moved it back, eventually holding on, thumb circling his palm. Grip stronger than it should've been, or perhaps Lex was weaker. So, maybe it did matter if he was here. Maybe Clark was talking to him. Maybe he should say something. 

"My father died, " suddenly out of his mouth, and that probably wasn't the best thing to open the conversation, especially with Clark so obviously busy, but it was all he could think of. 

"Lex." And Clark stopped moving, seemingly surprised at Lex's voice, kneeling down in front of him. "I know, I tried to call." 

"I took the phone of the hook." Clark almost laughed at that, but then seemed to catch himself and look more intently into Lex's eyes. 

"How are you doing?" And there wasn't really an answer to that. Lex suddenly understood that Clark could probably tell. He sighed and attempted a shrug. 

"We need to get you upstairs, how long have you been sitting here?" Clark asked, standing up and tugging on Lex's arm. 

"I was just trying to work that out," Sighed out with a breath as Lex stood, knees buckling and leaning heavily on Clark. 

Lex struggled up the stairs towards his bedroom, unsure how much of the work he was actually doing. Clark was talking to him again, seemingly agitated to get answers, or just something out of him. It was hard to get the words out though, things seemed rather crowded in his head, although his head was always like that. Things just felt a bit more urgent, and... dark. Maybe Clark realised that, maybe he knew how to stop it. Lex hoped so anyway, because he certainly didn't have any idea. 

Maybe it was something about the brightness of this room or the lack of destruction, but the feeling of the real world pressing in suddenly hit Lex, draining him of energy and any remaining coherence. He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, hands cradling his head, pressure from his palms relieving something inside. He heard Clark say something about changing and tried to move, but his body wouldn't respond. Scalding tears ran down his cheeks and dropped on to the floor, and he was unable to care that he'd been doing that since this morning and Clark would definitely have seen. 

Clark stopped moving, stopped opening the drawers and stopped saying things, moving to Lex's side, big hand on his back trying to soothe. 

"Lex, I... Lex, you ...I don't know what to do. Talk to me" 

It crossed Lex's mind that it was a shame Clark didn't know, because he'd been doing so well up to now. He pressed his hands tighter on his temples, scraping his fingers up and down on his scalp. Clark stilled, as if coming to a decision, and then knelt awkwardly in front of him, tilting his head to try and see Lex's face. 

Suddenly, and he was certain he hadn't felt Clark move, his hands were pulled from his face and lips pressed to his, tongue forcing his mouth open, searching inside. As quickly as they'd arrived, they left, Lex's own lips burning from the absence of touch. And then he was on his back on the bed, Clark holding his wrists out above his head, and sucking on the skin of his neck. He stilled completely then, almost relaxing at the feel of Clark's lips on his skin, and Clark seemed to take that as encouragement, releasing his hands to unbutton shirt and pants. 

"Clark..." Lex tried, but really couldn't manage any more than that. Wasn't sure what he wanted to say anyway. 

"You need to think of something else, Lex...It's...This will help." The last sentence said with such certainty that Lex thought he'd find it hard to refute at the best of times. 

A hand was inside his boxers now, sliding them off his hips and moving to his cock, and his hips bucked reflexively upwards, limited by Clark's weight on top of him. He moaned without intention and Clark was grabbing at his thighs pushing them up towards his chest. 

Fierce pressure with two fingers at his hole, other hand caressing his balls, teasing the skin behind. How the hell did Clark know about that? How the hell did Clark know about any of this? Clark moved, one arm holding him over Lex, fingers still moving, leaning down to kiss Lex's neck again. 

"You've got to get out of this Lex....You can't.. god.....Think of this instead, think of me " Clark whispered, mouth so close his breath caressed Lex's earlobe as he spoke. 

He wanted to tell Clark that it was okay, that he was okay, and that there really were better, easier ways to do this, but surrendering to the feeling was so much simpler. There wasn't time for doubt anyway, Clark's cock, slicked only with saliva, insistent against Lex. He moaned at the hard thrust, too hard, and gasped, only to be returned with a sharp pull out and another thrust, deeper. Clark's fist grasping at his cock, squeezing and pulling, thumb nail scraping the head painfully, but still making Lex squirm into it. He realised he couldn't escape, this was going to happen here and now, and it didn't really matter if he wanted it to or not. It was easier to fall into the urgency of Clark's movements, good to have some certainty in all of this. It fitted the theme of the day so far, fitted the theme of his entire fucking life. Nature and destiny irresistible, his father dead, body rotting. Thoughts spiralled again, black waves rolled in. A touch from Clark to his jaw and a caress of fingers on his cheek. 

"Stay with me, stay here." A command, gentle, in stark contrast to the harsh thrusts inside him. Gentle, but impossible to refuse, and Lex decided to want this. 

_5 months later_

It came with Luthorcorp; the destruction of everything in the same envelope as the papers giving him ownership of everything. He hadn't even bothered to empty the contents. The meeting with the attorney straightforward and short. Lex Luthor, sole heir and beneficiary to the estate of Lionel Luthor, CEO of the most powerful corporation in America and therefore responsible for the personal effects collected together in the brown envelope. It seemed strange that if his father had been a meter maid he still would've been holding his belongings in a brown envelope. Everyone equal in the end, Lex supposed. 

He hadn't searched the contents until months later, whilst moving his office in the penthouse to make room for Clark's bookshelves. His father's watch, leather strap worn through years of use. Glasses, dark lenses designed to improve the poker face. A letter, cursive script he recognised as his Mother's. Lex smiled at the sentimentality his father had let slip in death. He wouldn't have wanted Lex to see that, to notice the creases, signs of regular reading, the dark lint in the folds from the inside pocket of Lionel's jacket, where it had obviously lived for years. And the disk, remarkable only in its lack of identification. 

He'd slipped it into his hard drive, no password, just twenty separate files, the contents vaguely familiar. The investigation he'd stopped years before, when Helen had found out and then dropped him into the ocean. He could never be sure if the two had been connected. His father had continued it, used what Lex had found and followed each line of investigation to the end. And why hadn't he got rid of that evidence back then? It only occurred to Lex now that it was strange he'd kept it. 

He didn't know why he'd bothered verifying his father's findings, why he'd pursued the information he'd always known subconsciously to be true. That he knew from his own eyes since the relationship with Clark had developed, little things Clark let slip when he didn't know Lex was watching. Lex only knew that he hadn't questioned his actions, hadn't considered the consequences until Clark had found the files, questioned him and then left after weeks of tension and empty silences that Lex should have filled with explanations and apologies. He suspected Clark knew why he'd done it all, that he'd always hoped he wouldn't, hoped Lex could control whatever it was that made him do these things. That's why he'd stayed for weeks instead of leaving the first night. 

And it occurred to Lex that this had been deliberate, this was the parting gift, the final announcement and the discrediting of the heir. Lionel had seen it, the difference Clark had made to his son over the years and had to change it. 

Lionel couldn't have intended for Clark to find it of course, wouldn't have calculated the thoughts or actions of an unpredictable boy, but ... it had happened. Almost like Lionel had written the script himself, so how? Lex swirled the drink in his glass again as the knowledge arrived like that long awaited bullet to the brain. He knew Lex. Knew Lex couldn't resist the information, couldn't resist knowing more. Knew he would be unable to stop, even with his love for Clark. 

Self-survival was the trait drummed into him from birth, the one Lionel sought to nurture. But self-destruction had been cultivated by default. It was something Lionel had found frustratingly unpredictable and stubbornly difficult to control in life. It had been Lex's escape and rebellion, his power, but in the end Lionel had learned it and had used it for this end. Lex felt sorry his father wasn't able to gloat. It only seemed right. 

He was clear for the first time in days, the first time in years. He wasn't his father, but he was his father's son. Created in reaction to everything. Even in rebellion Lex had failed. The thing that made him able to challenge Lionel was the thing that made him push at Clark, would push at everyone. And if you could push the strongest being alive away, there was no stopping you. His father had won, and it had been inevitable, a law of nature. 

_End_


End file.
